This is how the classic poem might go if set in modern times.
Twas the night before Christmas in my foreclosed house
No meat in the freezer, not even with louse
The laundry was hung by the furnace with care
In hopes that they might be dry enough to wear
The children were jumping all over their beds
Maybe next year we can afford all their meds
And mama in her nightgown, with stains on the lap
We’d just passed out after a case of ‘Pap
When out on the street, there arose radio chatter
I rose from the bed, wishing I was less fatter
Away to the door, puffing fresh ash
I undid the deadbolt, angered and ready to bash
The tow’s lights reflected on the dirty snow
There goes my repossessed ’84 Yugo
When what to my crying eyes should appear
Could it just be another case of cheap beer
As I came to the mystery, still buzzed and so sick
I saw my dog died, the one rescued from Vick
Too bad we couldn’t pay the vet, Dr. What’s his name
Guess no fetch for the kids, their favorite game
This is Bush’s fault and maybe even Nixon’s
I used to be rich, now I’m trash from south of ‘Dixon
Your stupidity and greed caused my stocks to fall
Now I have no cash for gifts, not even a doll
All this recession and bailout talk is making my cry
Only the CEO’s savings have yet to be dry
To the garage I go, for a shovel and warmth too
So much for the idea for selling fertilizer from dogs poo
While digging the grave, I heard on the roof
There was a fat man eating some cheesie poof
Could it be Santa, could my luck be turning around
Or was I delirious from losing my hound
He was dressed in all black, from his head to his foot
His mask covered most his face, the rest hidden by soot
A bundle of garbage bags he had flung on his back
Was that my tv poking out of his sack?
His eyes look familiar, Is that my friend Gary?
I think he is laughing at me, he seems so merry
When he sees my wife, a kiss he blows
I can’t believe she is adjusting her clothes
Now came visions of Gary and wife underneath
The bitch has been lying right through her teeth
I thought about reaching for my trusted celly
I would call the cops and then punch him in the belly
But as I pondered it more, I thought to myself
Screw the law, I’ll get the gun from my shelf
A pull of the trigger, a shot to the head
Soon gave me to know, that bastard was dead
I spoke not a word, but went straight to work
My dog would soon be joined underground with this jerk
As my cheap lawyer fumbled, from the jury arose
A guilty verdict for me, damn this really blows
As the gavel was hit, there arose cheer and whistle
Then as I tried to escape, I was hit by a tiny missile
But despite all my hardships, I still shout with fight
Happy Christmas to All, and to all a Good Night!!
I think this poem has really brought out the plight of the common man during recession and how the big guys out there are still having a party with all their piles of cash. I hope this bade phase goes away soon!!!
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Good luck, and Merry Christmas!